


Bad Ending

by MoraMew



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Supernatural Elements, demon!Kyou, it's not explicitly spelled out or anything nothing graphic but mentions of pet training, murderer!Osamu, the fucked up human pet training i mean, tinder date gone wrong, uhhhhhh i really don't know what to tag it with, yachi is just trying to feed her big demon puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:51:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraMew/pseuds/MoraMew
Summary: "She smiles at him- sweet and maybe just a bit sleepy- and then rests against him with a little sigh. Her fingers curl into his jacket then and his mind addsclingyto her traits, thinks that hereallyfucking lucked out in finding her.She’ll be so easy to break in."





	Bad Ending

**Author's Note:**

> a writing warm-up/something to scratch an itch that's been bothering me for a while

She’s cute.   
  
She’s really cute.   
  
Osamu blinks down at the tiny blonde in front of him, takes in her nervous lips and the tired purple resting in crescent under her eyes. They can’t quite meet his, those eyes, but he likes them. Likes the shy lowering of her lashes and her soft pink lipstick and the way the plaid of her miniskirt shifts and moves as she fidgets in place.   
  
She’s nervous. It’s...adorable. She could be...fun.   
  
He wonders how nicely she would play along with him, if her shyness is a one time thing or if it’s something ingrained into her being.   
  
He likes shy things. They’re quiet. Well behaved.   
  
It lingers with her, the timid way her head is bowed ever so slightly and her soft, almost mumbled words. It lingers in how she can only meet his gaze in random, fragmented intervals, in how she follows him to the bar- docile and a little uncertain, but seemingly relieved that he’s taking the lead. When they get to the bar, he places his hand to her lower back to guide her and she startles at that- shoulders jumping tightly and spine straightening up rigidly.   
  
But then she relaxes against him and Osamu finds another trait he likes in her.   
  
Submissive.   
  
Cute. Shy. Submissive.   
  
She’s really hitting his sweet spots.   
  
He leads her to a quiet-ish, private-ish little table in the back and has her sit there while he goes to get them drinks. She nods and folds her hands in her lap when he moves to leave and, when he comes back, she’s still in the position, looking like she hasn’t moved an inch.   
  
Well behaved indeed.   
  
Osamu places a glass of something fruity and sweet in front of her and she offers a quick, timid smile along with a demure “thank you” that has his mind leaping ahead to different situations, to things that have been itching at him- things that he’s been craving. He tries to push it away, but it’s been too long and, really, that’s what he’s here for.   
  
He needs a new girl.   
  
He needs her, maybe.   
  
They sit and they drink and she slowly relaxes as they talk. He takes hold of the conversation- which is refreshing since he’s just spent the day with fucking Atsumu and couldn’t get a word in edgewise- and she responds in that soft, pretty voice that just makes him more and more curious over how she would sound if she were made to be louder- if she had to cry out and gasp and moan.   
  
She’d sound _so_  good, he bets. She’d probably sound fucking _perfect_.   
  
He doesn’t show his curiosity while they talk. He hides the growing interest and hunger behind half-shut eyes and sips of whiskey and the questions he asks that keep her talking for him. He learns that she works from home, that she’s a bit isolated from it, that she has a dog but no family. From the way she downs her drinks and how she leans closer to him- cheeks flushed and unflinching when he lays a hand to her thigh- he learns that she’s a bit _desperate_.   
  
He’s lucked out, honestly. She’s perfect for his needs.   
  
They stay in the bar until it’s well into the night and he behaves himself, schools himself to patience even as his fingers curl up tight next to the knife in his pocket. When it’s time to leave, he places a hand to her back again and she stays relaxed, even moves a bit closer to him as they walk. He can smell her perfume then and it’s sweet, innocent. Reminds him of lilies and white knee socks and rosaries. He bets that there’s cotton panties underneath her skirt.   
  
He bets blood would look so nice splattered over them.   
  
Osamu moves his hand to rest on her waist and she leans against him as they walk, eyes heavy when she tilts her head to look up at him. He likes that, he decides. Likes her flushed cheeks and her fuzzy gaze and the way her body is soft against his.   
  
She’s going to make a pretty pet for him.   
  
He can’t wait to break her in.   
  
“Come home with me,” he tells her- orders, practically. They stop walking and he reaches a hand to run a finger over her cheek, watches as her lashes flutter at the touch. “Let’s keep this going.”   
  
A soft noise and then she nods, eyes closing for just a moment at the movement. The consent can only be called delicious and Osamu breathes in deep, wishes for a cigarette and a collar to put around her pretty little neck.   
  
“I-I need to feed my puppy,” she mumbles to him, lashes cracking back open so she can look at him hazily. “Can I...on the way…?”   
  
He might have let her drink too much. It’s fine, he supposes. She’ll be nice and quiet tonight. He can get her set up in the basement without a fight.   
  
He’ll just have to wait for tomorrow for the real fun.   
  
Osamu eyes her and then gives a small nod, allowing this little detour. He can allow her that, he guesses. He’s got a soft spot for dogs, too- maybe he’ll even take it with him. Would be a good punishment/reward tool for her if anything.   
  
“...yeah,” he says. “We can do that.”   
  
She smiles at him- sweet and maybe just a bit sleepy- and then rests against him with a little sigh. Her fingers curl into his jacket then and his mind adds _clingy_  to her traits, thinks that he _really_  fucking lucked out in finding her.   
  
She’ll be so easy to break in.   
  
Osamu guides her to the car and helps her inside, ducks into the drivers side himself. She blinks slowly as it starts and peers out the window, shifts in the seat so her skirt hikes up further along a slim thigh. Osamu thinks about marking up that thigh as he drives, thinks about barbed wire wrapped around it nice and tight and blood dripping down her leg.   
  
He was half-hard in the bar thinking about her in his collar and on her knees and now, as he pulls into her driveway, he’s fully hard. Hard enough and hungry enough to think about taking her in her home, for his hands to twitch as he shuts off the car and gets out to follow her inside when she mumbles something about not being able to work her keys. He stands behind her, takes them and hunches over her as he slides the correct one in, feels his heart speed up in excitement as she trembles just a bit with him so close.   
  
He wants her. It’s so hard not to pull her close, take the knife out and slice apart her clothes.   
  
But, he has to be patient. He has to wait. He’s not Atsumu- he’s not going to blitz her and fuck things up too early.   
  
Osamu keeps her keys and puts them in his pocket as they walk in, reaches and smooths his palms over his knife through his jeans.   
  
It’s quiet in the house. Small, cozy, typical. There’s a smell in the air that Osamu can’t quite pin down- a scent that’s somehow filled with cinnamon _and_  musk- and it bothers him, just a little. Shouldn’t really, considering what scents _he’s_  used to, but it does.   
  
He’s about to ask her about it, but then she surprises him by grabbing onto his hand. It’s a bold move he wouldn’t expect from her and he certainly wouldn’t expect the insistent little tug she gives to it as she starts to walk toward a door either.   
  
“C’mon,” she mumbles to him. “He’s down here.”   
  
Osamu chalks it up to her being drunk and follows after her, tries not to grip her small, cool hand too tightly in his grasp.   
  
She probably wants him to meet her dog. Drunks usually like showing off their pets. He wouldn’t mind seeing it, anyway. It’s probably a tiny little ankle biter, he muses. Something small and spoiled to match her, he thinks.   
  
He thinks until she opens the door and they start walking down to a basement.   
  
He thinks until a gloomy light flickers on and something heavy settles in his chest.   
  
He thinks until there’s a growl so low he feels it in his bones.   
  
Before he can do anything, she pulls away and stumbles forward and out of his reach. She pauses and glances over her shoulder at him, gives him a look that makes his body tense over.   
  
A little trace of regret, something apologetic and a bit guilty. But resigned, too. Tired and with the look of someone who has come home to crash after an unpleasant task.   
  
“Sorry,” she tells him, the whisper barely floating through thick air. “He’s been so hungry. We couldn’t wait any longer.”   
  
Hungy? _Hungry_.   
  
Oh, _fuck_.   
  
Osamu jerks to move, to run the hell up the stairs and away from this mistake. He needs to leave and he needs to leave _now_. How the _fuck_  could he read her so wrong?   
  
Osamu manages to take two steps before the lights go out.   
  
He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t yell. He won’t give them the satisfaction of it.   
  
But he does breath too ragged as he slides his knife out. His hands do shake, just a bit, as he peers into the darkness.   
  
It’s a mistake to do that. Gold eyes sear through him when he whips his head to the side and Osamu is left with fear he’s never felt before when hot breath fans over his face.   
  
He should have ran instead. He should have known that the darkness would peer back.   
  
Osamu moves to try to do that, but then there’s _teeth_  in him. There’s fucking _fangs_  in his arm and a scream tearing out of his throat from the pain and _wet_  splattering all on him. Wet blood, wet _slather_. Wet wet _wet_.   
  
Too much. Too much. It fucking _hurts_.   
  
Osamu swings his knife into the dark and tries to slash at burning gold. He hits _something_  and there’s a snarl that _vibrates_  through him and makes the pain clash with something _sick_. He tries to slash again, but then there’s a jerk and he’s suddenly off balance and on his back and it’s _so much_  fucking pain and it _hurts_  it _hurts_ it _hurts_ it _HURTS_ IT _HURTS_.   
  
Teeth and more hurt and more dark and he’s lost his arm and there’s a hole in his stomach and claws raking over his crotch and, fuck, his dick is gone and there’s a _crunch_  in the air and it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts-   
  
“Kyou, not too fast. You’ll get sick.”   
  
Her voice and then gloomy lights that hurt his eyes and no no no bring back the dark. He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to _see_.   
  
But he does.   
  
Bleary, swimming vision takes in yellow fur and a beast too big to be real and his arm caught in huge fangs and blood splashed all over concrete and a pretty plaid mini skirt. He wants to puke but he can’t move and he can’t do anything but give into the pain and death that’s sweeping in quick.    
  
Hopefully quick. Hopefully. It’s too much. It hurts. _Hurts_.   
  
Osamu groans and his head lolls to the side. He can’t keep his eyes open. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see that fucking thing anymore. Doesn’t want to see the way she pets at it with a soft smile and the way it spits out his arm to lick her cheek with a loud huff.   
  
Can’t be real. It can’t be. Not- not real.   
  
But it is. It is.   
  
Osamu shudders weakly and his eyes close, his body starts to shut down. The pain is too much and it hurts, but death is coming quick and it’s a mercy that he probably doesn’t deserve- he can admit that, at least.   
  
Fuck, though. Fuck. He always thought Atsumu would die first.   
  
He wheezes out a pained breath and then there’s the clicking of heels, the touch of a hand to his cheek.   
  
“Sorry,” she whispers to him. “I’m sorry. He needs to eat. I can’t let him go hungry.”   
  
The apology is the last thing to register in his mind and Osamu snorts at it, hysterical in his last moments over him being _apologized_  to. He’d never apologize and she was supposed to be his new pet and- fuck. _Fuck_.   
  
His body jerks after the snort and he seizes up, gasping and trying to claw at the ground with a hand that isn’t there anymore. She shushes him and pets his hair, but it’s something that he can’t even notice as his life is snuffed out.   
  
Osamu dies with pale fingers brushing through his hair and more kindness being shown to him than he ever showed his victims.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
She’s cute. Shy, but cute. It makes him want to tease her, but Matsukawa is _trying_  to behave.  
  
At least for the moment.  
  
He doesn’t want to fuck things up too early and ruin his chances of a fun night.  
  
“So,” he asks her, leaning on his hand. “How often do you this type of thing?”  
  
She flushes, just a little embarrassed probably, and Matsukawa grins to himself because, hell, it _is_  cute how she easily flusters.  
  
“Not...um, not too often,” she mumbles, biting into her bottom lip after. “I’m usually so busy with work. I just...I needed some fun?”  
  
She ends it like a question and Matsukawa hums, nods.  
  
“I get that,” he tells her. “We can have fun tonight.”  
  
More flushing, but she offers a small smile his way too before giving a shy nod.  
  
“I...I would like that,” she murmurs, not quite meeting his gaze. “You’re really okay with staying in?”  
  
Matsukawa nods and he stands up straight when their order is called out, happily takes the bag from the cashier.  
  
“Yeah,” he tells her. “A night in binge watching movies sounds perfect.”  
  
Well, binge watching movies and maybe- hopefully- getting a _little_  action in too sounds perfect.  
  
But he’s not going to pressure her into that.  
  
“Besides,” he adds on as they start to walk outside, “I want to meet your dog. He sounds like a little troublemaker.”  
  
She blinks at that and Matsukawa swears that her smile strains a little before flicking up brighter.  
  
“He’ll be happy to meet you,” she says, eyes meeting his properly for the first time that night. “Kyou loves when I have company over.”  
  
Matsukawa smiles back at her and then she looks away, teeth digging into her bottom lip. She relaxes, though, when he grabs her hand with his free one and she lets him take the lead as he walks her home.  
  
It’s going to be a good night, he thinks.  
  
It’s going to be _great_.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing BTD lately and it's spooky season and all I can think about is anxious witch Yachi with a big demon puppy that she feeds by luring home men
> 
> Idk, man. It just hits some of my sweet spots.
> 
> Come say hi and hello on my (new and solely HQ) [tumblr](https://moramewhq.tumblr.com/)


End file.
